


Damage over Time (DoT)

by tigerlady (shetiger)



Category: NCIS
Genre: Episode Related, Gaming, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-31
Updated: 2009-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-05 13:00:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shetiger/pseuds/tigerlady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony just can't stay away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damage over Time (DoT)

**Author's Note:**

> Everybody has to have their version of what happens with the canon cybering, right? Episode tag to Love &amp; War. Warning: There is a fair amount of game-style chat speak in this, though not so much that you have to play to understand it. Also, for the gamers out there, keep in mind I had to make up a MMORPG world that matched NCIS's crazy ideas of such. ;)

&gt; clairedaloon: you there?  
&gt; clairedaloon: hey, listen. I'm sorry about the other night.  
&gt; elflord: can't talk. in melee.  
&gt; clairedaloon: you are so not. I can see you, you know. the big pointy ears are hard to miss even when you're hiding behind the herbivorta.  
&gt; elflord: aren't you busy with your boyfriend?  
&gt; clairedaloon: hes working late  
&gt; clairedaloon: *he's  
&gt; clairedaloon: I just wanted to say I'm sorry. for not showing up and all that stuff I said. It's not that you aren't a great guy. I just don't think we're right for each other, okay?  
&gt; elflord: why not?  
&gt; clairedaloon: what do you mean, why not? I just don't  
&gt; elflord: You didn't have fun last weekend? Because you sure acted like you had fun.  
&gt; elflord: Or was that all some game? Bait the geek, maybe? See what kind of loser you can find online?  
&gt; clairedaloon: NO!1!  
&gt; clairedaloon: I did have fun. but man, come on. we don't even know each other.  
&gt; elflord: We could. Get to know each other, I mean.  
&gt; clairedaloon: why do you even want to? after the way I treated you.  
&gt; elflord: I don't know. I just...I've never clicked with anyone like I have with you.  
&gt; elflord: I mean, I don't want to sound desperate, but how often have you found somebody you could talk to like that?  
&gt; clairedaloon: look, you need to forget about me. I'm not interested.  
&gt; elflord: Then why did you message me again?  
&gt; elflord: We spent 20 hours together last weekend and I didn't want to hit you once.  
&gt; elflord: Not that I'd ever hit a woman. I just meant that we get along well.  
&gt; elflord: Tell me it's not the same for you. Tell me you didn't feel that.  
&gt; clairedaloon: it's not that simple  
&gt; elflord: look out!  
&gt; elflord: behind you  
&gt; ##Lord Magus hits you with fireball for 30 pts damage##  
&gt; ##Lord Magus hits you with immolate for 10 pts damage##  
&gt; ##You cast Lightning Bolt##  
&gt; ##You hit Lord Magus for 5 pts damage##  
&gt; ##Lord Magus hits you with ashes to dust for 45 pts damage##  
&gt; ##You die##  
&gt; Reincarnate? Y/N  
&gt; /N  
&gt; /log

Tony shoved the keyboard away, hard enough that it crashed into the base of the monitor with a tiny little plastic whump that would have had both McGee and Abby screeching out allegations of abuse and negligence, and then scrubbed both hands over his face. _That_ was a mistake. A big fucking mistake. A big, plump, glossy red maraschino of a mistake on top of one loaded mistake sundae. He'd only wanted to try to explain. And to make sure that McGee knew that nothing was going to happen.

Instead the probie seemed to be more convinced than ever that Claire was his _soulmate_.

He hadn't meant to let it get this far. Really, he hadn't. The theory was sound. Lots of time on his hands, no real urge to be around people, and the perfect opportunity. McGee had been the one geeking out the whole week before about the new game release; Tony'd just used his investigative smarts to take advantage of what was right in front of him. It should have been simple: Get in, chat McGee up a bit, get something specific to tease him about, and then lay low until Monday morning, when he'd spring the trap.

And yeah, he knew he should have known better. Nothing in love or war was ever simple--and MMORPGs seemed to be a bit of both. He'd had to build the character, which wasn't as easy as it sounded. There was the look and the name and the class to pick. Specialties to decide on. He'd had to freaking figure out how to walk around, for God's sake. It wasn't like he didn't use a mouse every day, but once he had to use it to drive a mini-DiNozzo through doors and up stairs and around corners, it was like he was trying to steer a Maserati with his foot.

After all that effort, who could blame him for wanting to draw it out a little? Especially when McGee had been so helpful and nice. Maybe it was even a little fun--not that he'd ever admit to having fun in geekworld. It was...a brainwashing kind of thing. Spend enough time with the captors and you start sympathizing with them. Yeah, that was it. He'd just gotten too deeply into the role. No big deal.

Except now Tim was paying for Tony's mistake.

Tony pushed back from the desk and stood up. He was being ridiculous. McGee would get over Claire. All Tony had to do was stay off the game, not respond to his email, and that would be it. He had better things to do with his time than mope about McGee's puppy-dog eyes, anyway. Things like the James Bond marathon on TNT. A little popcorn, a cold bottle of beer, and it would all be good.

He switched off the TV ten minutes into Goldfinger. He'd paid for six months up front on that game, damn it. He wasn't going to _waste_ the money just because he was afraid McGee was going to keep hitting on him every time he got online. All he needed to do was tell the truth, or a version of the truth, anyway, and he could spend as much time as Claire, Dark Elf Sorceress, as he wanted to.

Not that he wanted to. It was the principle of the thing, of course.

***

To: hislordship@elfitania.com  
From: claire362636@yahoo.com  
Subject: You're a good guy

Tim,

You're right. I did have a lot of fun with you. But you have to believe me when I say it won't work between us. Look, there's no easy way to say this, but I lied about who I am. I don't want to go into it, but let's just say if you knew the real me you wouldn't be interested. Trust me on this.

You should try finding somebody out there in the real world. I bet a lot of women are looking for a guy like you. You just have to put yourself out there some. Maybe you know somebody who's good at that kind of thing who could take you out, introduce you to some hot chicks.

Sorry about all this.

-Claire

* * *

 

"Good morning," Tony called out as he zoomed past Ziva's desk. She cringed backwards into her chair as she looked up at him, like McGirly at a Hitchcock festival, which just made him grin wider. He dumped his stuff at his desk, then opened up the paper pastry sack and took a big whiff. "Mmmm. Fresh croissants. Too bad I can't eat them all myself."

Ziva narrowed her eyes at him as he held out the sack, but she snatched one up without hesitation. "What's gotten into you this morning? Good date last night?"

"No, no, nothing of the sort." He glanced around the bullpen. It was still clear of any sign of Gibbs or McGee, but he leaned in and lowered his voice anyway. "I cleared up my little problem."

"Oh, Tony. You know that those enlargement products they sell on television are a big scam, yes?"

"Hah. Funny--not." She grinned slyly at him and then tore a chunk out of her croissant with a ferocious snap of her teeth. Tony swallowed and stepped back a pace. "Remind me never to feed you after midnight."

Ziva sucked a flaky crumb off her thumb. Taunting him, always taunting him. "Are you afraid that I will turn green and murderous?"

Tony fluttered his eyelashes at her. "No, just worried that those calories before bedtime will go to your hips. Have you put on a few pounds lately?"

"You are one to talk," she said, looking pointedly at his beltline, but she also pushed the rest of the croissant towards the edge of her desk. Totally worth the hit to his ego. "So tell me what is the problem you were talking about."

Tony looked over his shoulder one more time. "I sent McGee an email last night, telling him everything. Well, not everything everything, but enough that he should get the picture. Haven't heard back from him since."

Ziva raised an eyebrow. "So he knows that it was you?"

"What? No. And he's not ever going to." Sweat prickled up in the small of his back when she smirked at him. He frowned at her, trying to look Gibbs-tough. "Right, Ziva?"

She threw a hand out to the side, nearly smacking him in the chest. "Do whatever you want, Tony. Just don't drag me into it anymore."

"Fine. Be that way. See if I ever tell you any juicy secrets again." He stuck out his tongue, then pulled his croissants in close to his chest and spun around--right into Gibbs. "Uh, hi, Boss."

"Juicy secrets, DiNozzo?"

"About how to find the best pastries in the city." He held out the beg, smiling as innocently as he could manage. "Croissant?"

Gibbs eyed him like he knew exactly what was going on, and Tony had to remind himself that he couldn't possibly know. Not unless he had the whole place bugged, and Gibbs wouldn't know how to do that. Well, Abby would, and she'd do anything for Gibbs, and... Tony swallowed hard and forced a smile onto his face while Gibbs pulled a croissant out of the bag.

"Thanks, Tony," Gibbs said, saluting him with the croissant, pointy ends up like a lucky horseshoe. "That was very thoughtful of you."

Tony grinned. "No problem, Boss."

"Now are you going to do any work today, or are you practicing for a full-time career as delivery boy?"

"Right. I was just getting ready to--" Gibbs raised his eyebrow. "--work quietly at my desk over here."

"That's what I thought." Gibbs smiled, just a bit, and headed towards the stairs, croissant in one hand and coffee cup in the other. Tony let out a deep breath and retreated to his desk, glad to have dodged that bullet.

"Good morning, McGee," Ziva called out a few minutes later. "Tony brought croissants today. You better grab yours before he eats it."

"Thanks, Ziva, but I'm not really hungry this morning."

Tony looked up. Instead of the relaxed, back-to-normal probie he'd expected to see, there was a slow-moving, sad-faced man shambling towards his desk. He didn't even glance at Tony, just dropped his bag next to his chair and slowly started going through the motions of the day. He was even draggy starting up his computer, taking twice as long as Tony himself took on days after all-night stakeouts.

This was bad. This was really bad.

Tony glanced over at Ziva, but she had her head buried in work. Taking the coward's way, obviously, leaving it to him to pull Tim out of the dumps. Well. It wasn't like he hadn't been there for McGee before. And this was just a little cyber-crush. The fact that Tony was responsible for the situation didn't make any difference in the grander scheme of things.

He looked up towards MTAC. There wasn't any telling how long Gibbs would be gone, but Tony figured he had a big enough window to get the ball rolling. He picked up the bag with its last pastry, then made himself at home on the corner of Tim's desk.

"What do you want, DiNozzo?"

"Ooh, we're a little McGrumpy today, hmm?" Tony set the sack down next to the keyboard, but Tim promptly picked it up and set it on the opposite side of the desk, showing no interest in the goody inside at all. Tony frowned, then leaned down so he could talk a little more confidentially. "So, what's up? Is your little plan to win back Kara not going so well?"

"Claire," Tim corrected without looking away from his computer screen. "And I don't want to talk about it, okay?"

Tony winced. "Sure, sure. But listen. I was thinking. You know, sometimes the best way to get over this kind of thing is to get back out there again. I know this sushi place that has a great happy hour, draws all the hot chicks."

McGee snorted and finally looked up at him. "Right. Because that works so well for me. I told you, Tony. I'm not you."

"Well, obviously." Tony stroked his tie. Armani today, and not a hair-width out of place. "But if I go with you, help smooth the way a bit, then I'm sure you won't have any problem at all."

"And by no problem at all, you mean you'll get two dozen phone numbers and l'll spend the night watching your drink." McGee shook his head. "Thanks, but no thanks, Tony."

"It won't be that way, I promise," he wheedled, but Tim already had his eyes down, chin tucked in like a turtle as he frowned at the screen. Tony sighed. It'd be so easy to keep harassing McGee until he finally gave in, but his heart wasn't in it. There was only so far you could push when he got like this before the big, sad eyes broke you. Tony stood up and clapped him on the shoulder. "If you change your mind, you know how to find me."

McGee looked up. His eyebrows were drawn close together, like he couldn't quite figure out why Tony was being so helpful. He opened his mouth, paused, and then shook his head once. "I won't," he said, and then looked back down.

"Right," Tony murmured. He went back to his desk and settled into work. He glanced over at Ziva, and caught her watching him. So much for minding her own business. He stuck out his tongue, just a little bit, and she rolled her eyes and went back to the folder she was studying.

Something rustled, the distinctive sound of crisp grease paper being handled. Tony looked to his right, and sure enough, McGee had a mouthful of croissant. The chocolate-filled one that had somehow found its way to the bottom of the bag.

At least something he'd done was helping.

* * *

 

To: claire362636@yahoo.com  
From: hislordship@elfitania.com  
Subject: Re: You're a good guy

Claire,

I don't know what you think is so terrible that you had to lie about it, but know this about me: there are very few things that I couldn't accept in a future partner. Unless you're a criminal, in which case I'd probably have to investigate more closely to find out what you're doing. So let's hope for both our sakes that you're just shy.

See, the thing about lying is that it hurts both parties. And a lot of times, it hurts the person who does the lying even more than it hurts the person who gets lied to. There's this guy I work with--I'd like to call him a friend, but I'm pretty sure from the way he acts that he doesn't consider me one. Anyway, this guy. He got into this rough situation a while back because of something that happened with our work, and wound up lying to someone he really cared about. I think it really upset her, but it messed this guy up a lot more. So much so I don't think he knows how to be in a relationship anymore. Or even how to be a friend.

My point is that yeah, I'm upset you lied to me. It hurts. But I understand that maybe there's a reason for it, and if you'd like to come clean about it, I'm listening.

And I'll only make you pay for it a little. ;)

Tim

***

"Gahhhhhhhh!"

Tony picked up the keyboard with both hands and shook it at the screen. He was half-tempted to fling it at the wall, but his temper had never been so bad that he had to stoop to destroying things to relieve it. He just really, really wanted to shake McGee, tell him to wake up and smell the bad man sitting on the other side of the network from him. How the guy ever made it through high school, let alone FLET-C, Tony just didn't understand. McGee was the definition of gullible. Naive. Innocent. A babe in the woods. The lamb for the slaughter.

McGee had been so droopy all day that Tony couldn't help checking Claire's email tonight, just to make sure that he'd given up. He certainly hadn't expected to find the probie making this gentle offer of understanding, one that used Tony as a how-not-to example and called him a lousy friend all at the same time. And to top it all off, McGee was trying to school Tony on the consequences of lying. Like Tony didn't know how deep the cuts went, or how much effort it took to put on the same DiNozzo grin as always whenever he went out with a beautiful woman.

Tony cracked his knuckles. "Oh, it is so on."

***

To: hislordship@elfitania.com  
From: claire362636@yahoo.com  
Subject: You have no idea what you're talking about

Lying? You want to talk about lying? Try this one on for size:

I'm a guy.

Yeah, how about that? You spent the whole weekend flirting with some guy over the internet. For all you know I could weigh 400 pounds and have Aryan Brotherhood tats all over my bod. Still want to meet up?

Oh, and I'm not a computer programmer, either.

I never meant to hurt you, I swear it, but you have got to get over this whole thing. And be more careful in the future, or you're going to get yourself in a lot more trouble than this. Who knows what nutjob might take an interest in you?

Here's a little advice. You might want to try out this thing called real life. That guy you don't know if he's a friend? Maybe he wants to be, and you're just so caught up in geekworld that you haven't given him a chance to be one.

-Not Claire

***

Tony hit send. Nausea hit him almost instantly, even though there still wasn't any way that McGee would be able to figure out it was him. He wiped the sweat off his face, then got up and headed into his kitchen for a beer. He took a long swig out of the bottle, and another. The cold press of the glass against his lips, the weight of it in his hand, the bitterness of hops on his tongue helped center him some, even if it was too soon for the alcohol to slow his speeding pulse. He tipped the bottle back, swallowing until the beer was gone, then tossed the empty in the trash while he gasped for breath. He scrubbed his mouth dry with the back of his hand and then went back into his living room.

There was a message waiting for him on the Yahoo account.

***

To: claire362636@yahoo.com  
From: hislordship@elfitania.com  
Subject: So?

None of that changes the fact that I had a great time last weekend.

Tim

***

Tony stared. Stared for a good thirty seconds before closing his eyes. When he opened them, the message was the same. He shook his head, exasperated. Either McGee was a genuinely nice guy, or he was more bi-curious than Tony'd ever suspected.

Or maybe he was a little of both, and that was... Yeah, Tony wasn't going there. This was all just a stupid game gone horribly wrong. That was all.

He kept telling himself that all the way into his dreams.

* * *

 

He wasn't going to bring it up. If McGee was still stuck on Claire after Tony had come clean (well, more or less), it was his own damn problem. Not Tony's responsibility at all.

Unfortunately, thirty minutes into the stakeout they'd already covered Ziva's eerie eyebrow thing, the history of pepperoni, and the odds related to McGee having seen the same three--and only three--episodes of Magnum since he started working for NCIS. Which meant that the next topic was either going to be some excrutiatingly boring lesson on biometrics or metricbios or something nano-bio-geeko-related that McGee had studied at one of his hoity-toity schools--or Tony's love life. Given the choice of slow death via hungry rat or quick and bloody death by the sharks in the pool below, there was only one thing to do. Tony opened his mouth and leapt for the ledge.

"So, how are things going with Claire?" was what came out. A whooshing splash and the Jaws theme echoed through the empty space between his ears that passed for his brain. Smooth. So very, very smooth. Tony closed his eyes and manfully resisted the urge to thump his head against the window.

After a minute of silence, Tony opened his eyes. McGee was staring out towards Gilderstern's house, like he was supposed to, but his lips were pushed out in this little pout-wibble combination that should have looked ridiculous.

He was so going to Hell when his time came.

"Not good?" he asked gently.

Tim shrugged his left shoulder. "It's...complicated."

"Complicated? Complicated how?"

Tim bit his lip. "It's not really anthing I can explain. But no, it doesn't look like it's going to work out."

Cartoon Tony in his head was doing a big fist pump and happy dance. Yeah, he still had to get McGee back on his proverbial feet, but at least the guy was starting to see the light. "Sounds like you've given up on her," he prodded.

Tim sighed. "It's not... Claire's a guy, okay? Are you happy now, Tony?"

Tony snorted. It was funny, a little, just like he'd thought it would be. Well, except for the part where McGee was pulling out the puppy-dog eyes again. Tony picked up the binoculars and turned back to the house. "I always knew it. Wait until I tell Ziva our little Tim has his first boyfriend."

"It wasn't like that, Tony. I really thought she was, well, a she." McGee tugged on the binoculars. Tony batted at his hand. "Kind of like you did with Voss."

Tony let go of the binoculars, pleased when McGee reeled back with a grunt. "I thought we weren't ever going to speak of that again."

"I'm just saying. _I_ had no way of knowing Claire was a guy." He frowned, eyes turning inward. "I mean, she even chatted like a girl. Not that you can always tell for sure, but it's a fairly obvious difference."

"Yeah, I bet all that talk about elf shoes and what to wear to the magic ball gets old."

McGee rolled his eyes. "Are you ever going to get out of the middle ages, Tony? That's not what I meant at all. Usually these games are full of a bunch of young, geeky guys who have to prove how macho they are by going on and on about this talisman and how much better raid sorcerers are than divine sorcerers and all kinds of B.S. Girls who play...well, they usually don't. They're more focused on the game."

Tony raised his eyebrow. "Are you sure about that? This guy fooled you, after all. And you're not like that. I mean, I can't see you being like that. With the B.S. and everything." Tony tried to keep the wince inside, but McGee didn't seem to have noticed his slip.

"I'm not. Which is why it was so nice to find somebody else who was straight-up." McGee snorted. "Although I guess _straight_ isn't really the word to use for him, is it?"

"Wait. What?" Tony gave up the pretense of paying attention to what was going on outside the car. Old Mrs. Gilderstern probably hadn't finished feeding her cats yet, let alone made it to the money-laundering portion of her day. "You think the guy's gay?"

McGee shrugged. "Why else would he pretend to be a girl? I mean, unless he was just being a complete jerk who got off on crushing someone else's heart."

"Yeah, yeah," Tony muttered. He started to turn back to the window, but he just couldn't leave it at that. "Maybe the guy just wasn't thinking. Or, oh, maybe he thought it would be funny at first, then got trapped in the situation. You were coming on pretty strong, you know."

"Me? You should have seen her. Er, him. This guy was so perfect...it was like he knew who I was before he started talking to me." Tony held his breath, but after a moment McGee shook his head. "I guess I should have known she was too good to be true."

"Hey, buck up, McGloomy." Tony awkwardly patted him on the shoulder. "You'll find somebody. I know you will."

"Yeah, maybe. Just, nobody like Claire." McGee sighed. Tony opened his mouth, to say what, he didn't know, but McGee slapped him on the shoulder and pointed toward the window. "Isn't that Lieutenant Reynolds?"

Tony turned in time to see old Mrs. Gilderstern pull out a gun. After that, there wasn't a lot of time to worry about McGee's feelings. Or allegations about his own sexuality. There wasn't a lot of time to worry about much of anything until he finally got home, just shy of midnight, case wrapped with a neat little bow and his Zegna irreparably grass-stained.

He should have gone straight to bed.

He _intended_ to go straight to bed.

***

&gt; ##You have defeated Lord Magus.##  
&gt; ## The Fortress of the High Priestess of Titanwolf looms before you.##  
&gt; elflord: Hey  
&gt; elflord: I didn't expect to see you in here again.  
&gt; elflord: After that last email.  
&gt; clairedaloon: I'm just here to play the game.  
&gt; clairedaloon: And why are you talking to me?  
&gt; elflord: sorry, man. my mistake.  
&gt; clairedaloon: no, I didn't mean it like that. just, the whole guy thing, you know.  
&gt; elflord: *shrug* No one else in here is much fun.  
&gt; clairedaloon: oh.  
&gt; clairedaloon: well, I was just about to take on the high priestess. you up for it?  
&gt; elflord: give me a couple minutes. I need to hit the canteen, load up on healing packs.  
&gt; clairedaloon: no prob. grab me some manna flasks while you're there?  
&gt; elflord: Don't tell me you were going to go in without any.  
&gt; clairedaloon: hey, I have some. But it never hurts to be full up, right?  
&gt; elflord: especially when someone else is paying  
&gt; clairedaloon: yeah, because you won't make the gold back once I drop the first titanwolf  
&gt; elflord: please. like you're the only firepower around here.  
&gt; clairedaloon: oh, ho ho. be my guest, Goldlord. we'll see who has to clean up the death star once you're done repainting the walls with your guts.  
&gt; elflord: *rolls eyes* and I was just talking about how you didn't do that.  
&gt; clairedaloon: hey, what's a game without a little friendly elbowing now and then?  
&gt; clairedaloon: and you were talking about me? all bad, I assume  
&gt; elflord: no, actually. just wondering why you did what you did.  
&gt; clairedaloon: it was just a big misunderstanding. are you at the canteen yet? I need to get to bed sometime tonight.  
&gt; elflord: on my way back  
&gt; clairedaloon: good. because I am soooo ready to kick some lupine ass  
&gt; elflord: lupine? big word.  
&gt; clairedaloon: hey, computer programmers aren't the only ones who have brains  
&gt; elflord: no, but they have the biggest  
&gt; clairedaloon: oh, now you want to talk size?  
&gt; elflord: of brains, yeah. we gonna do this thing, or not?  
&gt; clairedaloon: lead the way, elfman. show me how good that big brain of yours is when it comes to TITANWOLVES.

***

To: claire362636@yahoo.com  
From: hislordship@elfitania.com  
Subject: Who kicks ass?

I had fun last night. I still think you'd feel better if you came clean about the whole situation. But that's up to you.

We make a great team though, huh?

***

To: hislordship@elfitania.com  
From: claire362636@yahoo.com  
Subject: I kick ass, that's who

You're like a little yippie dog with one of those green chew bone things. You're going to break your teeth if you're not careful.

And yeah, we do. You want to try for The Exterminator tonight?

***

To: claire362636@yahoo.com  
From: hislordship@elfitania.com  
Subject: Not as much as I kick ass.

Now who's fixated on size? I promise you, I'm not little.

And sure, sounds good. 7:30? So far today's been pretty light, so unless something comes up last minute, I should have plenty of time to play.

***

To: hislordship@elfitania.com  
From: claire362636@yahoo.com  
Subject: In your dreams

I am not fixated. And good to know.

Make it 8. I need to work on my magic weaving so that I can get the Cloak of Many Castings after we take down The Exterminator.

***

&gt; clairedaloon: HA! Take that, jackass!  
&gt; elflord: And you wanted to give up.  
&gt; clairedaloon: what? I just said maybe we should restock  
&gt; elflord: and I said we could take him. and I was right.  
&gt; clairedaloon: yeah, yeah, whatever. what'd he drop?  
&gt; elflord: Two rubies, a couple manna flasks. I'm sending them over.  
&gt; clairedaloon: thanks. that's it?  
&gt; elflord: Oh, I don't know. A little something called the Sword of Extermination.  
&gt; clairedaloon: you're kidding. that's like a 1 in 1000 drop.  
&gt; elflord: 1 in 5000, actually. pretty fucking sweet.  
&gt; clairedaloon: dude, why didn't it let me roll for it?  
&gt; elflord: um, because you're a sorceress? you can't use a sword, remember?  
&gt; clairedaloon: oh, I'd figure out how to use that bad boy. if I had to use it for my walking stick, I'd figure it out.  
&gt; elflord: whatever. we both know who can handle a sword around here.  
&gt; clairedaloon: oh, so you're the swordmaster now.  
&gt; elflord: hey, bards can do anything. I just need a little time to get my skill level up.  
&gt; clairedaloon: so you're saying you need to spend a little one on one time with your sword  
&gt; elflord: I'm saying I'm a natural.  
&gt; clairedaloon: I bet you are.  
&gt; elflord: just wait and see.  
&gt; clairedaloon: you're going to handle all the swordwork for both of us?  
&gt; elflord: as long as you stay behind me  
&gt; clairedaloon: I will be _all over_ your ass, sweetcheeks.  
&gt; clairedaloon: I mean, at a safe and helpful distance, of course  
&gt; elflord: right. didn't you say you wanted to make that cloak?  
&gt; clairedaloon: yeah. the Cloak of Many Castings. it's kickass, man. we are so going to rule this place from now on.  
&gt; elflord: as if we didn't already  
&gt; clairedaloon: true.  
&gt; elflord: listen, I better get to bed. my boss is kind of a hardass, so I can't be out of it at work.  
&gt; clairedaloon: tell me about it. there was this one time. well, you probably wouldn't be interested.  
&gt; elflord: no, tell me.  
&gt; clairedaloon: there was this one time I stayed up all night working on this project. not that that's unusual. we get a lot of pressing stuff at my job.  
&gt; clairedaloon: and my boss comes in and starts going after me because I wasn't wearing a fresh shirt. I mean, come on. would it kill him to say thank you once in eight years?  
&gt; elflord: sounds a lot like my boss  
&gt; clairedaloon: don't get me wrong. my boss is the best there is. It's just hard to live up to his standards.  
&gt; elflord: you sound like that's really important to you.  
&gt; clairedaloon: yeah, yeah it is.  
&gt; clairedaloon: but I should let you get to bed. don't want to get you in trouble.  
&gt; elflord: yeah, you too  
&gt; elflord: same time tomorrow?  
&gt; clairedaloon: as long as nothing comes up with work  
&gt; elflord: cool. night.  
&gt; clairedaloon: sweet dreams

***

To: hislordship@elfitania.com  
From: claire362636@yahoo.com  
Subject: Raincheck?

Hey,

Looks like I can't make it tonight. I had something come up last minute. Catch you Saturday instead?

***

To: claire362636@yahoo.com  
From: hislordship@elfitania.com  
Subject: Re: Raincheck?

Got a hot date?

***

To: hislordship@elfitania.com  
From: claire362636@yahoo.com  
Subject: Raincheck?

Don't tell anybody, but you're the only date I've had in a while. No, I need to do a little more research for a project at work. Gotta impress the boss, you know? Or at least not screw up any more in his eyes.

You going to play tonight anyway? Not that I mind. You're free to do whatever you want, of course. I was just hoping that we could take on Mistress Morden together.

***

To: claire362636@yahoo.com  
From: hislordship@elfitania.com  
Subject: Re: Raincheck?

Working on a Friday night? That kind of sucks. What kind of emergencies do you have at your job that make you do that?

And I figured I'd work on my writing some. If I get on later I'll just get my sword skill up. I won't try to take on the mistress without you, don't worry.

***

To: hislordship@elfitania.com  
From: claire362636@yahoo.com  
Subject: Raincheck?

It's not an emergency, really. I just need to check into some stuff that I haven't had time to do this week. It's something I do from time to time to keep my head above water. I just didn't think I'd have to do it tonight. I'll make it up to you, though--tomorrow is all yours. Once I get a little shut-eye, anyway. Don't want to fall asleep at the computer and leave you hanging.

The Mistress is going to rue the day her bits were programmed. So. Dead.

***

To: claire362636@yahoo.com  
From: hislordship@elifitania.com  
Subject: Re: Raincheck?

K, I'll catch you tomorrow. Don't stay up too late. I've heard she's nearly impossible on the first run through.

* * *

 

Tony balanced the coffee cup on top of the pizza box and then shook out his left hand. Yeah, it looked cool to carry it one-handed like a waiter, but after a while the heat soaking through the cardboard got to be too much. Those guys must have calluses an inch deep to loft hot metal trays all--

Tony pulled up short. The lights in the bullpen were dimmed, yeah, but he had damn good eyesight, and he wasn't one to hallucinate. Which meant that yes, his first impression was right.

McGee was here.

He was at his desk, shoulders hunched forward while he typed, face practically glued to the screen. The probie was going to ruin his eyesight one of these days, what with as much time as he spent on the computer. He really needed someone to save him from himself. Tony slid the pizza box onto his desk, then picked up a sheet of paper and wadded it up. It flew with deadly accuracy, bouncing off McGee's temple and into his trashcan.

McGee didn't even look up.

"Oh, come on. Not even a sigh of exasperation?"

McGee turned towards him--and sighed heavily.

Tony crowed. "Thank you! I knew I could count on you."

And there went the eyes, rolling merrily along. "What are you doing here, Tony?"

Tony shrugged. It wasn't like McGee hadn't ever seen him stay late before, but there was a weird extra element now, since his alter ego had had this very discussion with Elf Lord a few hours earlier. "I had an idea on the Snider case, so I thought I'd take another look at the files. What are _you_ doing here? Didn't you have some big geek thing to do tonight?"

Tim frowned at him. Tony's heart skipped a couple beats as he tried to remember if McGee had actually said anything out loud about playing tonight, or if it had all been in email. Except it didn't really matter if he hadn't, because of course Tony would jerk him around for doing some non-specific geek thing any old day of the week.

God, he so needed to get a grip.

"I forgot to file my expense report, and you know how Gibbs gets about signing off on late paperwork." McGee tapped a key, then turned to face Tony fully. "The Snider case? I don't remember that one."

"It wasn't one of ours." Tony unlocked his desk and pulled out the file folders. "Sergeant Jack Snider was convicted of a scheme to defraud the government. Stole over two hundred thousand dollars from various pension funds. The thing is, they never tracked down where the money ended up."

"And they still got a conviction?"

"Had him on tape bragging to his buddies about what a sweet deal he had going." Tony shook his head. "Real smart guy."

"Smart enough to hide the money, though." McGee rolled his chair over to Tony's desk. It felt like a real campfire moment, only with just the two of them, enough so that Tony flipped up the lid on the pizza box and nudged it towards Tim. "You think he had some connection to Reynolds' and Gilderstern's laundering set-up?"

"I think it's worth taking a second look."

McGee picked up a slice with his right hand and the file on top of the stack with his left. "So what can I do to help?"

Tony plucked the file out of his hands and handed him a different one. "That has all of Snider's banking records. You think you can uncover anything with your magic fingers?"

"Magic fingers, huh?" McGee arched an eyebrow at him.

Tony waggled his eyebrows. "What, you're saying you can't make anything sit up and beg with those bad boys?"

McGee grinned, dirtily enough that Tony couldn't ignore the little flip-dive of his stomach. "Oh, I definitely can. Just wait and see."

"Uh-huh." Tony dropped his hands to McGee's knees, lingering just long enough to give him a good shove that sent him rolling back to his own desk. "More typing, less talking."

Tim did just that, fingers flying across his keyboard as he frowned down at the open file. His mouth was open slightly and his eyebrows were puckered together with concentration. It was his serious work face, just like Tony saw practically every day. For a minute he tried to envision Tim staring at his computer like that while they played, but the picture wasn't right. Not quite. Tim would still be serious, especially when they were in the middle of a fight, muscles tensed with adrenaline and pushing him forward towards the screen, but his eyes would be wide with excitement. He'd probably still have a little of that mouth-breather thing going on, but maybe he'd poke his tongue out or bite his lip when things got really tough. Tony rarely had the concentration to spare for McGee's faces when they were in a real-life firefight, but he was sure that he'd seen McGee do that once or twice.

"Tony?" Tim was looking at him with one eyebrow raised--which meant he'd totally caught Tony staring. "Was there something else?"

"Just working on a theory," he said quickly. "I know it's hard now, but one day you'll understand how a master detective's mind works, young Probiwan."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Riiiiight. You might want to theorize a little faster, though. I'm not planning on staying here all night, so if you need anything..."

"Yeah." Tony cleared his throat and turned back to the stack of files. "Yeah, I'll keep that in mind."

* * *

 

&gt; elflord: hey, I didn't get a chance to get my sword skill up. something came up last night.  
&gt; clairedaloon: oh yeah? something like a hot date?  
&gt; elflord: something like work. I spent half the night helping out that guy from work I mentioned. you know, the liar.  
&gt; clairedaloon: you're kind of hung up on lying, you know.  
&gt; elflord: gee, I wonder why.  
&gt; clairedaloon: ANYWAY. so you're not ready for the mistress yet  
&gt; elflord: no, I've got to go kill a bunch of bunnifers or something. shouldn't take more than half an hour.  
&gt; clairedaloon: I guess I might as well work on my magic weaving some more. it's going to be a long time before I outlevel this cloak, though.  
&gt; elflord: yeah, but get ahead now so you'll be ready when you do.  
&gt; elflord: heh. these things EXPLODE when I hit them. you should see it  
&gt; clairedaloon: fur everywhere?  
&gt; elflord: totally  
&gt; clairedaloon: oh, I am so there.  
&gt; clairedaloon: omw  
&gt; clairedaloon: so, this guy you work with. you really don't like him, huh?  
&gt; elflord: no, it's not that. it's just that he's a jock. and jocks always pick on geeks, you know.  
&gt; elflord: for a while I thought maybe he was different. that maybe he thought of me as a friend, instead of just another target.  
&gt; elflord: but I was wrong.  
&gt; clairedaloon: what makes you say that?  
&gt; elflord: lots of stuff. a lot of mean pranks.  
&gt; clairedaloon: maybe that's his way of showing you he likes you.  
&gt; elflord: what, like pulling pigtails? I guess that is about his mental age  
&gt; clairedaloon: hey!  
&gt; elflord: what?  
&gt; clairedaloon: um, nothing. I thought one of the bunnifers was getting the drop on you.  
&gt; elflord: please. they can't even hit me.  
&gt; elflord: so where-- oh, there you are. watch this.  
&gt; clairedaloon: HA! that's hilarious. too bad you don't have some spinning attack thing.  
&gt; elflord: yeah, that's straight-up warriors only. I like casting too much to be one.  
&gt; clairedaloon: yeah, nothing like all that power at your fingertips.  
&gt; clairedaloon: back to this guy. you really think he doesn't like you?  
&gt; elflord: I don't know. I just wish I didn't feel like he was going to stab me in the back one of these days just because it seems funny at the time.  
&gt; clairedaloon: sounds like a total asshole.  
&gt; elflord: sometimes  
&gt; elflord: sometimes not  
&gt; clairedaloon: why do you even put up with him?  
&gt; elflord: because we work together.  
&gt; clairedaloon: that's all?  
&gt; clairedaloon: I thought you told me you thought of him as a friend.  
&gt; elflord: I do. sort of. it's complicated.  
&gt; clairedaloon: complicated how?  
&gt; elflord: you mean besides the pranks? well, I don't think he really ever lets anybody in.  
&gt; elflord: I think mostly he acts the way he does to keep people at a distance.  
&gt; elflord: and it's hard to be friends with people who don't want to be friends with you.  
&gt; elflord: no matter how much you want to.  
&gt; clairedaloon: that's kinda deep.  
&gt; clairedaloon: let me give you a little advice.  
&gt; clairedaloon: this guy sounds kind of like me in some ways. except I'm not an asshole.  
&gt; clairedaloon: and I know that if I acted like that, it would be because I think of you as a friend.  
&gt; clairedaloon: you still there?  
&gt; elflord: yeah, just thinking  
&gt; elflord: okay, I think I've gotten my skill up as far as I can here. you ready?  
&gt; clairedaloon: um, what's that thing?  
&gt; elflord: what's what thing?  
&gt; clairedaloon: that giant pink thing on the horizon  
&gt; clairedaloon: holy shit  
&gt; elflord: run  
&gt; ##The Killer Bunnifer of Caerbannog hits you with Bite for 2500 pts damage.##  
&gt; ##You die.##  
&gt; Resurrect Y/N?  
&gt; Y

***

&gt; clairedaloon: oh, man, I think my eyeballs are completely dried out. how do you do this all the time?  
&gt; elflord: what makes you think that I do?  
&gt; clairedaloon: *shrug* you just talk like an expert, that's all. man, my wrist is killing me.  
&gt; elflord: I don't usually game this much. weekend marathons sometimes, yeah, but not non-stop for two weeks like we've been doing.  
&gt; clairedaloon: I can't believe I've been playing this stupid game at all. it's so not me. but.  
&gt; elflord: but it's addictive?  
&gt; clairedaloon: I was going to say it's been nice spending time with somebody who... nvm. that's way too sappy.  
&gt; elflord: I don't mind sappy.  
&gt; clairedaloon: yeah, well, I do.  
&gt; clairedaloon: seriously, how do people survive playing these kind of hours?  
&gt; elflord: people have actually died from it, you know.  
&gt; clairedaloon: okay, that is completely screwed up.  
&gt; clairedaloon: wait. I'm not going to die from playing, am I?  
&gt; elflord: I seriously doubt it. The key is to take breaks. Walk around, get your blood flowing.  
&gt; elflord: Re-hydrate and get some food. Maybe stretch out your mouse arm a bit. Oh, and try to look at something in the distance so you don't go cross-eyed.  
&gt; clairedaloon: heh. I think it's too late for that last one.  
&gt; elflord: hey, listen. why don't we go grab some dinner somewhere? it'll give us both a break, and we can see if we get along as well in real life as we do online.  
&gt; clairedaloon: what, like a date?  
&gt; elflord: a date between friends  
&gt; clairedaloon: I want to. I really do. But it's not going to happen.  
&gt; clairedaloon: I know you think I'm giving you the run around, but  
&gt; elflord: yeah, I got it.  
&gt; clairedaloon: I'm going to go order a pizza. catch you back here in an hour?  
&gt; elflord: sure, whatever.

***

&gt; clairedaloon: I'm back  
&gt; clairedaloon: so, are you mad at me or something?  
&gt; clairedaloon: God, I sound like such a chick  
&gt; elflord: yeah, that's probably why you fooled me at first.  
&gt; clairedaloon: HA! you're such a comedian. not.  
&gt; elflord: no, I'm not mad. I just forgot for a bit.  
&gt; clairedaloon: forgot what?  
&gt; elflord: I get caught up in having fun with you, and then boom, you remind me that there's this whole other level of not-fun.  
&gt; clairedaloon: I wish there wasn't.  
&gt; elflord: yeah, me too. let's just try for the mistress again, okay?  
&gt; clairedaloon: sure.

***

&gt; ##Mistress Morden casts Sleep of the Damned on you.##  
&gt; ##You cannot move.##  
&gt; clairedaloon: fuck. I'm out of it, man. Can't do anything.  
&gt; clairedaloon: You got her?  
&gt; ##Elflord Dispells Charm on you.##  
&gt; ##You cast Lightning Bolt.##  
&gt; ##Mistress Morden deflects Lightning Bolt.##  
&gt; ##Your Lightning Bolt hits Elflord for 20 pts damage.##  
&gt; elflord: fuck, Tony, cut it out. she's going to keep doing that.  
&gt; elflord: come on, do something.  
&gt; elflord: I need you to draw aggro.  
&gt; ##You cast Gigantize on yourself.##  
&gt; ##Mistress Morden hits you with Smite for 15 pts damage.##  
&gt; ##Mistress Morden hits you with Squelch for 5 pts damage.##  
&gt; ##Mistress Morden hits you with Smite for 10 pts damage.##  
&gt; elflord: Yes! Got her with her back turned!  
&gt; ##Mistress Morden dies.##  
&gt; elflord: Yes! we did it! god, I thought we'd never get past her.  
&gt; elflord: Gigantize was exactly what you needed to do. Great job.  
&gt; elflord: You gonna loot the body?  
&gt; elflord: Hello. You there?  
&gt; clairedaloon: you get it. I need to hit the sack. later.  
&gt; /log

***

To: claire362636@yahoo.com  
From: hislordship@elfitania.com  
Subject: Loot

She had a really kickass wand. I'm sending it to you, since I got the sword last time.

Is something wrong?

***

To: claire362636@yahoo.com  
From: hislordship@elfitania.com  
Subject: You okay?

I haven't seen you on at all today, and I thought we were going to play. Just want to make sure you didn't keel over from a blood clot or anything.

If you're tired of the game, you can just email me and say so. Or give me a call.

-Tim

* * *

 

The only reason Tony didn't call in sick on Monday was he was sure that Gibbs would wind up sending McGee to check on him, because the man had EESP--Extra-Evil Sensory Perception. And then he'd still have to go through the ordeal of facing McGee at work once Tuesday rolled around. It all boiled down to the Bandaid principle. Get it over as quickly as possible and move on.

(Not that he hadn't spent all of his shower time that morning contemplating a shiny new career with the FBI. Yeah, they had no sense of fun or style, but they did have that big old plus of McGee not working for them. But then he remembered that he'd have to put up with Agent Slacks--and wow, talk about People Other Than Norman Bates Who We Do Not Want to Think About While In The Shower for $1000, Alex--and he decided to man up and get his ass to the Naval Yard.)

"'Bout time, DiNozzo," Gibbs murmured when he walked in (only five minutes late, come _on_) but he didn't even bother to look up from his paperwork, which meant Tony was okay as long as he didn't screw up again today. Ziva shot him a curious eyebrow, but Tony ignored it in favor of getting right to work. The Snider case was still gnawing at his gut, even though they'd run into dead end after dead end Friday night. He thought maybe they had been going about it backwards, though. Guilderstern had a lot of grandkids; if McGee could just crosscheck all of...

Which wasn't going to happen today, because Tony wasn't speaking to McGee. Ever again, if he could help it. So he cracked his knuckles, opened Google, and got to work. He wasn't stupid, after all. He'd gotten a priestess up to level five in less than twenty-four hours of gameplay. He could figure out a few bank records without a master's in geekspeak.

His mood kept yo-yoing from infuriated to mortified and back all day long. The more frustrated he got with the case, the more infuriated he got with McGee. Tony kept it to himself, but the whole team still picked up on it; Ziva kept giving him measuring looks, Gibbs was even quicker than usual to jump on any perceived slacking, and McGee--well, Tony had pretty much avoided looking at McGee as much as was possible, even though it took some really determined blinders several times. He was starting to get a headache from not ever turning his head to the right.

He was finally, finally thirty seconds away from escaping, ready for a dose of Excedrin and maybe a run to work out all the tension of the day--when McGee cornered him in the hall outside interrogation. (Which technically shouldn't be possible to do, since it was a _hallway_ and thus had no corners, but with Tim's jaw set and his shoulders back so that he actually looked his height for once, Tony _felt_ cornered.)

"What's going on, Tony?" Tim sounded pissed, like he actually had a right to be mad, as well as clueless, both of which just made Tony angrier.

He snorted. "Are you really that dense? Or is it just that you think I am?"

"Wha--" Tim took a deep breath, then dropped his arms to his sides. "All I know is that you've been avoiding me all day, and now you're insulting me. And not in the fun way. So are you going to tell me what's going on, or are you going to act like a spoiled brat until I figure it out?"

Tony had planned on just ignoring the whole damn thing until it went away, but that was it. He reached out with his right hand to open the door to the observation room and then shoved McGee with his left, hard enough that McGee took two steps back and into the room before he offered up any resistance. Tony didn't let up, though, just crowded in until he could slam the door shut behind him.

"Why don't I make it easy for you, Elf Lord. You got a little too excited battling Mistress Morden the other night. Which hey, I understand. She's pretty damn badass. It's just the three weeks of pretending you didn't know exactly who I was that I'm having a little trouble with."

Tim blanched. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and then he went bright red. Tomato bisque red. "I didn't... You... Wait, why is this my fault?"

Tony's gut dropped faster than on a transport aiming for a carrier on the high seas, but the only thing to do was keep pressing forward. "Don't give me that! How long have you known, huh? How long have you been stringing me along like an idiot?"

"Excuse me? _You're_ mad at _me_? You're the one who started this whole thing!"

"That doesn't mean it was okay to do what you did!" Tony shot back as fast as he could, but he knew the ground was all but gone underneath his feet. It was all he could do not to fling himself backwards, to scrabble for the safety of the door behind him.

The look on Tim's face said he wouldn't get far if he tried.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, pressing forward. "Do you feel _embarrassed_ because somebody you know violated your trust? Treated you like a giant joke just because they were bored? Gosh, that's just terrible, Tony."

"I never meant to hurt you!" Tony yelped, and yeah, he'd totally lost the high ground. "I just didn't think it through."

"No, you just set out to humiliate me without a second thought." Tim's gaze dipped to the side for a second, more color splashing his throat, before he met Tony's eyes again. "Were you going to post the transcripts on the internet? Or were you just going to email them out to everyone at NCIS? 'Hey, look at how naive the probie is.' If Ziva hadn't stepped in, how long were you going to keep going, Tony?"

"I don't know! Forever, maybe." Tony shook his head. "I just... I got caught up in it. Like you said, we were having a good time."

"A good time? Tony, you tricked me." Tim swallowed hard, and when he spoke again the angry volume was gone, his voice shaky without the power. "You tricked me into falling for-- For Claire. What the hell were you thinking?"

Tim was so close now that Tony could feel their breath thundering together, could feel the warmth of his chest only inches away. His eyes were big and hurt, his brow furrowed deep, and Tony didn't know what else to say. "Tim, I..."

"What, Tony? Explain it if you can. Because from where I'm standing, I don't think you can."

And the thing of it was, he couldn't. He knew that. But Tim looked so betrayed. Almost as much as Jeanne had, at the end, even if he had far less reason to be so. Tony knew he could just give up now, put it all on Tim instead, and they'd go back to the way they were--eventually.

Maybe.

Tim rolled his eyes. "At least have the guts to come clean. This was all some big scheme to do what, prove that I'm the biggest loser on the planet? To try to out me for liking a guy? I've got news for you, Tony. I'm not gay."

Tony licked his lips. "Yeah, I kinda got that. A long time ago."

Tim sighed. "Then why are you so fixated on it?"

"Because maybe I am!" The words were out so fast that they left him panting, almost giddy with vicious satisfaction that he'd shocked Tim with something at last. Except--

Tim's brow furrowed. "What? Maybe you are what, exactly?"

"God, you are so clueless sometimes!"

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. I'm always going to be the newbie, the naive geek who ha--"

Tony didn't even know he was going to do it until his hand was on the back on Tim's neck, pulling him forward. He'd caught Tim open-mouthed, in the middle of the word, and his lips stayed slack against his own. Tony tried for a second longer, before his brain kicked back in and started screaming at him.

He stepped back so fast that he caught the edge of his shoe in the hem of his slacks. Tim reached out to steady him, but immediately dropped his hand, fingers snatched closed like he'd almost grabbed an open flame.

"Tony?"

"Sorry," he said, once his feet were sure enough to start moving him. "Sorry for everything," he added, and brushed past Tim and on out the door.

* * *

 

&gt; elflord: hey. I've been waiting for you to get on.  
&gt; clairedaloon: that sounds nicely stalkerish of you.  
&gt; elflord: Don't, Tony. I just wanted to talk about what happened earlier.  
&gt; clairedaloon: Are you going to file a complaint?  
&gt; elflord: what? No, of course not. Besides, one kiss hardly compares to superglueing my face to the desk.  
&gt; clairedaloon: then there's nothing to talk about. I'm just on here to delete my account.  
&gt; elflord: Tony, come on. Talk to me.  
&gt; ## Are you sure you want to delete account? Y/N? ##  
&gt; /Y

* * *

 

He only opened the door because he was pretty sure his neighbors were going to call the police if Tim kept pounding away, and wouldn't that be a fun one to explain. Especially if word got back to Baltimore. Or worse, to Gibbs.

Tim seemed to think Tony's practicality was an open invitation to make himself at home, though, if the way he swept into the living room and started fiddling with the DVD collection was anything to go by. He slid the second season of Magnum out of the shelf, glanced at the back, then stuck it back in and reached for Wanted: Dead or Alive.

Tony slapped his hand down over the backs of the cases, right beneath McGee's searching fingers. "Enough with molesting my shows already. Just say whatever you came to say."

Tim sighed. "It's not that easy."

"Maybe you should have thought of that _before_ you woke up everyone in my building." Tony scrubbed his hand through his hair, then turned around and flumped down on his couch. He was tired, and not just because it was way past his bedtime. "If you're looking for another apology, I don't know how to make a better one."

"No, it's not that." Tim circled the coffee table and sat down on the couch. On the middle cushion, right next to him, their thighs only inches apart. Tony had to fight the urge to climb up onto the arm and keep on climbing until he was out of range of whatever was coming. "Look. My whole life, I've been one of the unpopular kids. The geek, the klutz, the guy with the bad clothes and the weird interests."

"Yeah, I got it when you gave me the speech online." Tony rubbed at his forehead. "You're right. It was a totally crappy thing for me to do. I honestly thought it would be funny when I came up with the idea. For both of us."

Tim shook his head. "You're not getting it. Yeah, I've been picked on my whole life. Long enough that I know how to deal with bullies, and how to give back as good as I get."

"Oh, I'd say you got me back pretty good."

"The thing is, Tony, I always hoped you were different. That underneath everything, you actually liked me for me."

"I do like you!" he yelped--and then he remembered he'd already proven that point a little too thoroughly. He groaned and dropped his head against the backrest. "Obviously."

"No, not obviously. At first, I thought you were just fucking with me, trying to get me to admit stuff so you could laugh at me." Tim cleared his throat. "After a while, it didn't matter. We really were having a good time, and I was fine with that. But the whole time, I knew it started as a joke. At my expense."

Tony draped his right hand across his eyes, blocking out the light. And Tim's shadow. "You know, I'm pretty sure Gibbs could build you a rack. It might be more efficient in the long run."

Warmth settled on his thigh. Hand-shaped warmth, two inches above his kneecap. Not high enough up to be invasive, but definitely well within the not-just-friends range. Tony raised his head and stared down at Tim's hand, then looked up to meet Tim's gaze.

"I never actually thought you might be doing it because you were interested in me."

Tony licked his lips, but his mouth still felt dry when he opened it. "I really did think it was just a joke at first."

Tim started to pull his hand away, but Tony dropped his own hand down, holding Tim's in place. "I said **think**. I'm not like you, Tim. I don't plan out my every step of my life beforehand. It's a hell of a lot of fun that way, but sometimes, it gets a little messy. Sometimes, I fuck things up."

"Sometimes you don't know yourself very well?"

Tony snorted. "That, too."

Tim sighed. "I'm still having a really hard time believing this isn't part of the joke, too."

"What if I prove that it's not?"

Tim's eyes were so wide, his pupils big and black, though Tony could still make out the ring of green around them. Such a pretty, pretty green, the perfect compliment to the pale pink flush over his cheeks. "How?" he asked, sounding so innocent, but his gaze was locked on Tony's lips and his fingers were kneading into Tony's thigh.

Tony started more slowly this time. He cupped Tim's jaw, thumb on his chin and fingers just under his ear, and tipped his head so that he could brush their lips together ever so softly. He'd seduced women this way before, but never a man, and his stomach was tight with fear that it wouldn't work the same. But Tim parted his lips without hesitation. They kissed for several minutes, Tony purposefully keeping it light, but he didn't pull back until Tim's breath sped up and he himself was having a hard time not pushing for more.

"Now do you believe me?" Tony murmured, his cheek pressed tight against Tim's.

"I don't know." Tim leaned back, pulling away, but he brought his hand up, fingers hovering aimlessly for a second before they skittered over Tony's lips. "This really wasn't what I was expecting when I came here."

"Is that a bad thing?"

Tim smiled. "No, just weird. Good weird, maybe." Then he all but lunged forward with that good ol' Probie grace and planted his lips against Tony's. Good weird was the perfect way to describe it, though, because even if it wasn't a good kiss, it was still pretty great. Tony didn't hold himself back this time, and Tim was right there with him.

Later, tangled up half-naked on the couch together, Tony couldn't stop the snort that escaped.

"What?" Tim asked, sounding as hazy as Tony felt.

Tony shook his head. It was _so_ geeky, but it looked like he was going to have a little more geek in his life in the future, anyway. "I can't believe I deleted my account after I put all that time into it."

Tim pushed himself halfway up on his elbow so that they could see each other's faces. "I still can't believe you got one in the first place."

Tony shrugged. "Yeah, well. I ran out of other ways to get your attention."

Tim rolled his eyes, but Tony caught a glimpse of a smile before he dropped back down. "You know you can undelete it, right? As long as your account hasn't expired."

"Huh."

Tim started to push himself up again. "I can show you--"

Tony tugged him back down, oofing a little when Tim wound up sprawled across his chest. "It can wait till tomorrow."

"Oh, right," Tim said, and turned his head for a kiss.

* * *

 

&gt; clairedaloon:You working on your weapons prowess over there?  
&gt; elflord: nah, finished that up last night. Trying to track down a recipe for this bad-ass blade I read about.  
&gt; clairedaloon: hey, pass the chips, will ya?  
&gt; elflord: great. there's going to be crumbs in the keyboard again.  
&gt; clairedaloon: better than crumbs in the sheets.  
&gt; elflord: that wasn't my fault.  
&gt; clairedaloon: whatever, McKinky.  
&gt; clairedaloon: grrrrrar. I'm so sick of weaving. Maybe I should have taken armor craft.  
&gt; elflord: Yeah, that would have done your sorceress a lot of good.  
&gt; clairedaloon: I'm just saying it gets a little old after a while.  
&gt; elflord: That's how these games work, sorry.  
&gt; clairedaloon: boring  
&gt; elflord: You going to give up on it?  
&gt; clairedaloon: Nah. I'm only three levels away from Supreme Spelltrix. It'd be dumb to quit now.  
&gt; elflord: oh, good.  
&gt; clairedaloon: what, like we wouldn't be able to find something else to do in our spare time?  
&gt; elflord: Hey, not even you have that much stamina.  
&gt; clairedaloon: wanna bet?  
&gt; elflord: you're on.  
&gt; /log


End file.
